Fires you can't escape and heavenly voices you can't reach
by ArtisticAnimeniac
Summary: Sam Winchester and his father John have moved into a new town where it's more affordable. Sam's starting a new school. And if that's not enough stress to put on a sixteen year old's shoulders, ever since they moved here, he's been having nightmares. Can you guess what of?


It was burning everything was burning. Sam could barely see let alone breathe. With every inhale Sam breathed in he could feel himself get that much closer to death.  
_'__I'm going to die here,'_ he thought,_ 'all alone.'_**_  
_**"Sam!" he heard a distant voice calling his name. It sounded almost angelic.  
_'__I'm here!'_ he wanted to call out to the voice, but couldn't due to all the smoke that was currently in his lungs.  
"Sam! Common Sammy, where are you?!" cried the voice, sounding more and more desperate.  
_'__No voice that perfect should sound that pained.'_ Thought Sam, trying to call out to the voice again.  
"Sam! SAMMY!"

Sam woke up with a jolt, his hair plastered to his face and his shirt sticking to his back in a cold sweat. He sighed. _'It was just a nightmare_' he thought to himself. He's been having them every night ever since he and his dad moved into this house. Sam tried getting up and immediately landed on his face. _'Oww.'_ No wonder it was hard to breath, he had some how managed to wrap himself up in a cocoon of blankets. It had also explained why he was sweating. He knew the last explanation was a lie but he didn't want to admit how affected he was by his dream and that voice.

Sam rolled over, trying to wriggle his way out of his blankets as quietly as he could. They felt more like ropes then blankets. The more he struggled, the tighter they got. Like the plant (devil's snare) from the first Harry Potter book thats only weakness was sunlight. In the midst of his battle, Sam smacked his head against his bed side table. His dad must have heard the commotion because a second later he was opening Sam's door and turning on the light.

"Sam, you aright boy?" came his strong voice from the doorway.

"Yeah Dad, I'm just a little . . . uh . . . caught up." said Sam, his head still throbbing from the collision with the table.

"How the hell did you manage to do that?" asked his dad crossing the room and in one foul swoop, had Sam on his feet and blanket free.

"Thanks Dad." Sam said, knowing he was avoiding the question, but not wanting to disturb his dad with stuff that he couldn't fix.

John must have sensed his son's uncomfortableness. So he let the subject drop, for now.

"You should get your ass in gear, if you want to be on time on your first day."

"Kay, I'll be right down." said Sam, heading into the bathroom that was attached to his room. Sam sighed as he heard the door to his room close. That had probably been one of the longest conversations he and his dad had had in a while. Ever since his dad lost his job and had to move them to a more 'affordable' place to live.

Five minutes later, Sam was fully dressed, had brushed his teeth, and tried to brush his hair. It never listened to him and just did whatever it wanted. Before he left, Sam quickly studied himself in the mirror. He didn't know what he kept expecting to see. He was skinny and fairly short for a sixteen year old, only five seven. His dark curly/shaggy hair hung in front of his brown eyes. Sam sighed at his reflection. All the older ladies that used to hang around his fathers auto shop would always coo at him and tell him how much of a looker he was. Sam thought they just said that to get on his father's good side, he didn't think he looked special at all. But Sam liked being ordinary, it meant that he didn't draw attention to himself.

"Sam! Common if you want me to drive you to school then we have to leave now." his dad called up from no doubt the doorway.

"I'll be down in a minute." Sam called down, grabbing his school bag and giving the picture of his mother a quick kiss.

Sam was only six when his mother died, so it's been just him and his dad for the past ten years. John's never been the same since his wife's death, but Sam knows he's been doing his best. For what he can remember, Sam's mom was the best. He can remember baking cookies with her, and sneaking cookie dough with his father when Mary wasn't looking. But they'd always get caught and Mary would scold them. But it was hard to think of it as a scolding when she was trying to hide the big smile on her face. Sam can also remember his mom tucking him in at night, and no matter how early he'd get up, she was already in the kitchen, making him breakfast. In truth, Sam hasn't been the same since his mother's death either.

Coming down the stairs Sam notices his dad is already in the car, so he grabs an apple and quickly stuffs his feet into his worn out sneakers. His dad honks the horn as Sam steps outside and turns to lock the door.

"Sam I'll be coming right back so you don't have to, just get in."

Sam doesn't respond verbally, he just nods and gets in shotgun. As soon as his dad starts the engine, some heavy metal rock starts blaring. Sam zones out almost instantly, thinking about fires you can't escape and heavenly voices you can't reach.


End file.
